Perfectly Memorized
by Epic F. Awesomesauce
Summary: Sequel to my other HP fic "Perfectly Matched," read that first if you wanna read this. I'm thinking there will be around the same three couples from last time, so yeah... (Basically, read "Perfectly Matched" first.)


**Chapter One**

"Justin. Justin is alive."

Someone, please take those words and place them in the Big Box Of Famous Last Words/Things Spoken Too Soon. Along with, "Et tu, Brutus," and some other stuff. I can't think of them right now. I can't think of anything right now. I don't want to think of anything. Nothing. In fact, I want there to just be nothing, because, fuck, nothing would be better than this! This is... this isn't nothing, it's worse than that, it's the loss of something that was there but isn't anymore, it's... it's... it's...

I don't even realize that I'm crying until I realize that a nurse is gently wiping tears from my face with some soft cloth thing. I somehow just barely resist the urge to throw myself at her and bury my face in her chest and beg her to take me out back and shoot me. Didn't Muggles used to do that in the old days when they're dogs got rabies? It's a totally different matter right now, but I don't even give a fuck, I just want this to be over.

The doctor who has been testing Justin for a while now- to check for any signs of brain damage and shit, whatever, medical stuff that I can't care about right now -comes back over to me and stands in front of me, not even bothering to pretend like she's trying really hard not to look at my tears, and begins reading aloud from a clipboard.

"There is no damage to the brain, at least nothing severe. He's slightly malnourished and a bit beat up, but all in all he's not too bad, considering her was... ah... held captive by Death Eaters while being a Muggle born..."

I glare up at her and don't even bother trying to pretend that I'm not sobbing now, tears streaming endlessly down my face. "Except for the fact that he fucking can't... he fucking... can't..." I drop my head into my hands again to try to regain control of my breathing, of my body in general, but it doesn't work... I feel the nurse gently, awkwardly wrap an arm around my shoulder and instantly burst into awful, back-heaving, throat-choking, dying-of-sadness sobs, the kind of sobs that are like watching a Muggle car crash: awful to see but you just can't look away.

"Why is she crying?" I distantly ask Justin hear, and I desperately try to block out the sound of his voice because it kills me to hear it.

"Because she's sad," someone answers him. "Now, I was wondering how much you remember?"

"I remember being a little kid. And I remember going to Hogwarts. And I remember seeing a giant eye." I can hear the slight frown in his voice. "And that's all. Is that bad?" I can hear that little pout as well. He's looking at the other nurse with a confused little pout, his eyebrows crinkling towards each other confusedly, cutely. His lips are, for once, not curved into a smile.

"You can't remember anything else?"

I can hear him shake his head.

"What about her? Can you remember her?"

I can hear him turn to look at me.

"Do you remember her? She remembers you."

"I... I'm sorry, but.." I can hear that small note of apology in his voice. It's directed at me. "I don't... remember her."

* * *

I'm sure that someone, at some point, has said something about life being a bucket of shit that you have to crawl through, and that once you reach the top you realize that actually, everything is made out of shit, so you just have to get used to it.

Yeah, I think that someone was me, actually. Just now.

Well, that's what this feels like. Watching Justin sleep. The friendly nurse told me I should probably try to get some sleep in my room, but the predatory look I gave her, the way I protectively scooted my chair closer to Justin's bed, made her give up immediately.

"I don't know what it's like to love someone," she said to me as she was tidying up the room a bit before leaving for the night. "But if it's strong enough to keep a dying girl in a room with the thing that's killing her then I don't think I want to feel it."

"I don't think you do either," I half-advised her. "I suggest you try to avoid it." I find myself staring obsessively at Justin's curls, wanting to reach out and touch one but knowing that if he wakes up to find me- some girl... that he's... never... met -fondling his hair, he would freak out.

The nurse gave me a rueful smile. "And here I am heading right out to go see my fiance. Life's full of hell, isn't it?"

"I suppose it's got it's good moments." Like when Justin would just smile at me sometimes. Or like when I would be studying and he would dreamily reach out and stroke my hair. Or when he would lean in as if to kiss me only to rub our noses together and laugh. Or when we'd be sitting under one of the many trees on the grounds of Hogwarts and he would randomly lay his head on my lap and make me stroke his hair. Or when he would wrap me in a big hug in the middle of class and not let go until promised to do his homework for him. Or when he would sneak into the Slytherin dorm just so that he could rig some special contraption/spell thing that would dump a bucket of sludge on Pansy Parkinson when she'd lay down for bed. Or when-

I quickly wipe the tears from my face and try not to finish that thought.

_Or when Justin could remember me._

* * *

In the next couple days spent almost-by Justin's bedside falling back into the times I spent with Justin when he knew who I was. It suddenly strikes me that the almost-kisses and kisses and hugs and cuddling-on-a-blanket-in-an-empty-classroom really only started a couple days before my whole life went to- not to hell, but to something -but right now it seems like only a couple hours. It didn't last nearly long enough. It didn't last at all. It just disappeared on day, and then I thought that there might be a chance of it coming back and- POOF! -life played a fucking trick on me. Turns out that, actually, it's never coming back.

And then you turn around to see life pointing at you with one hand over it's mouth, wearing a t-shirt that says, "HAH! Sucks to be you! :)"

I'm going to be straight with you: Life is a bit of an asshole. So, make sure that when you move in with Death you give Life a kick in the face on the way out.

Maybe that's what I'll do. Maybe I'll go out with a bang. They say Harry's the chosen one but, let's face it... if you really want to kill a guy... if you really want someone dead...

There's not actually much anyone can do to stop you.

* * *

**A/N Short chapter is short, but... don't be ungrateful! I didst not haveth to writeth this for you ungrateful little ! #$ D: **

**Yeah, sorry, just ignore that. I wanted to write this! I don't mean to be a bitch- okay, nevermind, scratch that, I DO mean to be a bitch... but yeah, anyways, I'm a bitch you love so review and then maybe I'll give you internet-candy!**

**(Oh yeah, this is marked under "Drarry" but that's only because Perfectly Matched was as well and I figured I might as well keep them close to the same-ish, right? Anyways... DON'T HATE ME! DX)**


End file.
